Текст книги "A Farewell to Baker Street"

Автор книги: Mark Mower

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“In what way?” I enquired, having little idea what the contraption consisted of.

“I was told by Mr Cartwright that this is the first office building in London to have such a machine. It is a square box, some eight or nine feet across. An iron gate at its entrance is slid across to allow the office workers to step into it. When the gate has been returned to its original position, those inside can operate a series of levers which then transport the box up to their desired floor.” He paused at that point and withdrew his black police notebook from an inside pocket, before continuing to provide further minutiae.

“The contrivance is powered by water under pressure, which comes from a nearby hydraulic power station, which is itself driven by coal-fired steam engines. The whole system is delivered by the London Hydraulic Power Company, which operates north of the Thames. I confess that the details of how it works escape me, but it certainly takes the legwork out of climbing stairs in such a tall building.”

“I can imagine, Inspector. It sounds like an incredible device. And can this lifting box be accessed from each floor of the building?”

“Yes, although it appears that Mr Cartwright makes the greatest use of it. The concierge accompanies any visitors to the building and also assists the secretary, Miss Trelawney, who travels in the lift each morning to get to her room on the third floor. The concierge told me that the noise of the mechanism terrifies the Godbold brothers on the second floor and the dead man, Mr Flanagan, preferred to use the stairs to get to his first floor office, as the lift is very slow to operate.”

“I see. So that accounts for the ground floor. What about the rest of the building and its inhabitants?” I then asked.

“The body was found on the first floor. You will know something of Mr Flanagan from the newspaper account. The floor consists of two linked rooms which serve as one rented office. Access to both is through a single door which faces the stairwell and lift. The first room is windowless and contains a desk and some other office furniture. A further door at the rear leads to the second room, which the Irishman used as a storeroom for his valuable porcelain pieces.”

“Two questions, Inspector. Firstly, was Flanagan in the habit of locking the door to his office when at work? And secondly, does the storeroom contain windows that can be opened?”

“The answers to both questions is ‘No’, Doctor. Flanagan locked the door each evening when he left the office. The concierge suggested that this was usually around five-thirty. But during the day, he kept the door unlocked and rarely left his rooms. The windows are a modern design and permanently fixed. They cannot be opened.”

“Thank you, Lestrade. That is most clear. And what can you tell me about the body?”

“Flanagan appears to have been shot at close range, which suggests a handgun of some kind. But there was no weapon in the vicinity. The local doctor who arrived later to remove the body, said the death was most likely instantaneous and the result of the substantial blood loss from a single, fatal shot to the heart. He has agreed to let me know if his post mortem examination throws up any further information. Acting on the statement given by Chester Godbold, we searched all floors of the building but were unable to find the gunman.”

“How odd,” I suggested, “And you are inclined to trust the judgement of Mr Mount, that no one could have entered or left the building without his knowledge?”

Lestrade did not hesitate in his response: “I am, Doctor. James Mount could be said to have hidden his light under a bushel. While serving now as a very conscientious concierge, he was formerly in the Royal Horse Guards and has an exemplary military service record.”

“And did he share with you any useful observations on the shooting or the character of Edward Flanagan?”

At this point, the Inspector paused, sat back in the armchair and took a deep breath before answering. “Now, it’s strange that you should ask me that, because he did say something that struck me as irregular. He claimed that no one in the building actually liked Flanagan, whom he described as abrupt, obtuse and argumentative. Flanagan was the first tenant to take an office in Ravensmere Towers and acted like he owned the place. He had apparently fallen out with Chester, Arthur and Frederick Godbold when they first moved in, some two months ago – claiming that they were making too much noise moving around on the floor above him. Mount also said that Flanagan was a few months behind on his rent and had heard Cartwright threatening to evict him on more than one occasion. Only two days ago, Flanagan had also upset Miss Trelawney, the secretary, shouting at her when she refused to allow him in to see Cartwright to discuss the rent situation. All in all, Mount believed him to be a bit of a trouble maker.”

Reflecting on the characters discussed thus far, I then sought some further clarification. “Inspector, you have mentioned Flanagan, the concierge, the Godbolds on floor two and Cartwright and his secretary on floor three. But were there any other tenants or visitors in the building that day?”

The answer was again simple and direct. “No, Doctor. That is our entire cast, with the exception of the missing assassin. And if you want my view on how he could have escaped, I would say that it must have been during those first few minutes when the concierge ran up the stairs in response to the shouting of Chester Godbold. Mount told me that when the shot was fired he was in his office and heard only a muffled bang. At first, he believed it had come from the street, but stepped outside the office to listen further. He thought he could hear someone running on the stairs, but could not tell if they were ascending or descending. And as he strained to hear more, was suddenly aware of the cries for help and ran up the stairs to be greeted by the three Godbold brothers in some distress. If our mystery assailant was hidden in one of the washrooms at that time, he could have made his exit from the building shortly afterwards, out of sight of the concierge, and pulling the latch to behind him.”

From what I had heard, I could only concur with the meticulous detective. And seeing that Lestrade looked to be flagging somewhat, I suggested that we take a short break and enjoy a pot of tea and a slice of fruit cake which Mrs Hudson had very kindly prepared for us. For a short while, Lestrade chatted amiably about life at Scotland Yard and some of the other cases he was working on, but within fifteen minutes he had returned to the events at Ravensmere Towers.

“I ought to furnish you with some further information about the two remaining floors of Ravensmere Towers – I know that Mr Holmes is a stickler for detail. The first four upper floors are of a similar layout and design, with the two adjoining rooms being accessed from the main door facing the stairwell and lift area. All contain the same basic items of furniture and are let as furnished offices. The commonality of design extends to the large, potted plants which adorn each office and run down the walls to the left of each of the main office doors.

“Floor four also has a short corridor running from the back room – the one with windows – to a second door, which provides an alternative exit to the lift and stairwell. It sits to the left of the main office door, obscured by the line of potted plants. The top floor is different again, being but a single open office which runs around the lift and stairwell. Mr Cartwright explained that it was designed to be a large storage area for a business venture which needs only to make the most of the space available without any sort of reception area or desk. The room contains just two small filing cabinets.”

“Well, that all seems straightforward, Lestrade. And is there anything further you can tell me about the Godbolds, Mr Cartwright and Miss Trelawney and where they all were when the fatal shot was fired?”

“The Godbolds are strange, but likeable enough. The book business seems to suit them, being studious, academic types. I would be surprised if any of them knew how to hold a handgun. They were petrified when I first questioned them – concerned that the killer was still at large in the building. They claim that when the shot was fired, all three of them were in the back room of their office. Chester Godbold was prevailed upon to go out onto the stairwell and ascertain what had caused the explosion. And when he stepped outside the door, he saw the alleged gunman heading up the stairs. He called for help and was joined shortly afterwards by both his brothers and the concierge. When I questioned him later, he was unable to provide any details beyond the short description of the man you will have read in the newspaper.

“According to his account, James Mount then took charge of the proceedings. He told the Godbolds to stay where they were on the second floor while he ran down to the floor below. Having done so, he discovered Flanagan’s body and realised that the porcelain dealer had been shot. As he could see no sign of a gun, he guessed that the shooter must still be in the building and searched the back room of Flanagan’s office and then did a thorough search of the ground floor. But assuming my earlier theory to be correct, I imagine our killer had by then already left the building. Mount returned once more to the Godbolds and encouraged them to follow him down to the ground floor, where he felt they would all be safer. When they had assembled in the entrance lobby, they were concerned to hear that the lift had suddenly started to operate. The Godbolds were told to lock themselves in one of the washrooms, while Mount ran to his office and retrieved his old service revolver from a desk drawer. He was prepared for an encounter with the gunman, but when the lift had descended to the ground floor, he was relieved to see that it was occupied by Mr Cartwright and Miss Trelawney, who had left their office to find out why there was such a commotion elsewhere in the building.”

I interrupted at this point. “So, Cartwright and Trelawney were in their third floor office when the shot was fired?”

“Yes, that would appear to be the case. When I spoke to her later, Miss Trelawney said that she had heard a bang, but the sound had been some way off and had not given her much cause for concern. It was only when Cartwright emerged from the back room some minutes later, expressing some anxiety about the noise that she began to view it more seriously. Cartwright suggested that they make their way down to the ground floor to consult with the concierge. He picked up her work tray on the way out and the pair then headed for the lift in order to reach the ground floor, where they were greeted by the sight of James Mount armed with his revolver. He apologised as they emerged from the lift and explained that Flanagan had been shot and it was his firm belief that the killer was still somewhere in the building. Cartwright insisted that they all stay together on the ground floor with the exception of Miss Trelawney, who was instructed to walk to the nearest post office in order to despatch a telegram to Scotland Yard requesting immediate assistance.”

A small detail in Lestrade’s account piqued my interest. “Why did Cartwright insist on picking up Miss Trelawney’s work tray, Inspector? Did he elaborate at all?”

“Yes. He said that she had been working on some of his monthly accounts and the papers in the tray were highly confidential. He indicated that he didn’t like the idea of leaving them behind in an unlocked office and thought it was easier and quicker to pick up the tray and take it with him, rather than spend time locking doors behind him.”

“I see. And what have you found out about Cartwright and Trelawney – anything that might shed light on this curious incident?”

“Cartwright made no secret of the fact that he had been chasing Flanagan for his unpaid rent, but aside from that suggested that the two of them got along well enough. The businessman made his fortune buying and selling commercial properties and has invested a considerable amount of capital in Ravensmere Towers. He strikes me as a determined and direct fellow who usually gets what he wants. He had no clear idea about who may have wished to shoot Flanagan, but admitted that the man had not been popular with the other office workers.

“Cartwright’s secretary, Violet Trelawney, is twenty-two years of age and was taken on only recently. In fact, she has worked at Ravensmere Towers for less than a week. She was on the books of a secretarial agency before that, and was chosen by Cartwright from a shortlist of five candidates. He claims that she came with first rate credentials as a clerical worker and her references spoke highly of her character and, in particular, her integrity and reliability.”

“You mentioned earlier that she had been upset by one of Flanagan’s recent outbursts. Do you think that may have had some bearing on the events yesterday?” I queried.

“I don’t think so. Miss Trelawney came across as a hard-working and honest young woman. She was upset by his abrupt manner, but said that she would not have wished him harm. There was, however, one small discrepancy in the statement that she gave to one of my constables.”

I raised an eyebrow on hearing this. “And what was that?”

“Well, it is such a small and inconsequential matter that I am loath to make anything of it, but know how Mr Holmes insists on scrutinising the smallest of details. Asked if she could remember anything unusual about the events that morning, she told PC Clarke that when she had first sat down at her desk she had removed a Worcester Pearmain apple from her bag and placed it in the top drawer of her desk. She had intended to eat it later that morning and put it in the drawer, out of sight, as Mr Cartwright had made it clear from her first day in the office that he did not wish to see any personal belongings left on the desk. She claimed it was a particular obsession of his and that any work she had been given was always placed in a simple wooden tray on the desk, for he would not allow her to have any other items on display.”

I could see no particular mystery in this or, indeed, any obvious discrepancy with anything I had yet heard. Lestrade could see the concern on my face and went on to explain.

“Of itself, this does not sound very odd, I grant you. But the point I am getting to, is what Miss Trelawney went on to say. She claimed that when she returned to her desk later that afternoon – after we had completed a full search of the building and found no killer – the apple had disappeared from the desk. By my reckoning, there are only two possible explanations for that. Firstly, that she had been mistaken about the apple in the drawer, or, alternatively, that someone had taken it. And if the latter were the case, it could only have been taken by Cartwright or the killer. When I questioned him, Cartwright said he knew nothing about any apple and expressed some annoyance that my investigations should focus on such a triviality.”

“Most strange,” I replied, trying to hide my own feeling that this was indeed a piece of frippery in the overall scheme of events. Nevertheless, I recorded the relevant facts in my notes to share with Holmes later that day.

For the remainder of our time together, Lestrade explained how the case had been left. Having taken statements from all of the office staff, the police officers had allowed everyone to leave Ravensmere Towers and Lestrade had taken possession of all of the keys to the building. Cartwright had apparently voiced his opposition to this, but the inspector had been insistent. He said that his officers would complete their work the following day and the keys would then be returned to the owner the day after. A constable had been left in the office of the concierge to ensure that no one entered the building without permission. In this way, Lestrade believed he had done all he could to preserve for Holmes whatever clues might still remain to be found. He ended by saying that he hoped my colleague would be able to get across to Ravensmere Towers in the late afternoon or early evening to assist with the investigation. I agreed to send a telegram to Lestrade when Holmes had returned and the inspector then departed, looking noticeably more chipper than when he had first arrived at Baker Street.

***

It was a little beyond four o’clock that afternoon when Holmes returned to Baker Street. For a man who had just been awarded a knighthood, he looked remarkably sombre and grumbled about the length of time it had taken to complete the ceremonial luncheon. It was all I could do to get him to open the small presentation box and show me the elaborate enamelled white cross he had been given by the king. With little further thought he placed it on the mantelpiece and picked up his pipe.

Having relit the churchman, Holmes sat in his favourite armchair and insisted that I run through the notes I had taken of my discussions with Lestrade. In a fog of tobacco smoke, I spent the next twenty minutes recounting all of the relevant facts while he sat cross-legged, listening intently to every word. When I had finished the recitation, Holmes was glowing in his praise for my note-taking.

“An excellent job, Watson! You have painted a very comprehensive picture of the events yesterday and given me a clear understanding of the facts as they stand. I have no doubt that we can assist Lestrade in resolving this matter later today. But there is no time to lose – I suggest you despatch your telegram immediately and inform the inspector that we will meet him at Ravensmere Towers around five-fifteen. And I would be grateful if you could ask him to request that Archibald Cartwright, Violet Trelawney, James Mount and the three Godbold brothers are also in attendance.”

It took me but a short while to walk to the nearest post office and send the required telegram to Scotland Yard. When I returned to Baker Street, Holmes was already waiting outside in a carriage he had hailed to transport us the short distance to Hyde Park. At the appointed time, we stood on the pavement looking up at the impressive façade of Ravensmere Towers.

The building had been constructed in an Italianate style, with large pediment windows and neo-classical stone corbels beneath each projecting sill. The stonework had a gleaming white sheen, and two large, dark blue entrance doors complemented the front of the structure. At the corners of the roof line stood two short decorative towers which framed the building and added to its grandeur. It was clear that Archibald Cartwright had spent a significant amount of money on both the design and construction.

Holmes pulled the cord to the right of the entrance doors to ring the doorbell. Presently, we were admitted by a young police officer who introduced himself as PC Clarke. On entering the lobby of the ground floor we were greeted by Inspector Lestrade, a uniformed concierge and what I guessed to be our assembled party of office workers. Lestrade was effusive in his welcome.

“Mr Holmes, Dr Watson. Thank you both for turning out. I trust your journey was not too onerous?”

After some initial pleasantries and introductions, Holmes asked if James Mount could accompany him on a tour of the building. The concierge was eager to oblige and Lestrade passed to my colleague the set of keys which he had earlier taken charge of. After a couple of minutes examining the ground floor washrooms, Holmes asked if Mount could operate the office lift and take him to each floor of the building. Within minutes, the two men had disappeared from our view.

For the next half an hour Lestrade and I chatted amiably to the group. The auburn-haired Violet Trelawney seemed visibly animated by the proceedings and the three Godbold brothers overcame their initial reticence to talk openly and enthusiastically about the book trade. Only Cartwright remained impassive. When the lift returned once more to the ground floor, I could see from Holmes’ expression that the tour had been productive. The glint in his eye was unmistakable.

“My dear Lestrade. That was most instructive. This lift, or elevator, is indeed a wonderful piece of machinery. I have just a few questions to ask Miss Trelawney before we progress any further.”

With that, Holmes turned towards the young secretary and asked her to describe the sequence of events when she had first arrived at work the previous day. Violet Trelawney looked surprised by the request, but seemed content to take him through what she could recollect. In short, she had arrived at work at a quarter to nine and having deposited her coat and hat in the cloakroom of the ladies washroom, had emerged to find Mr Cartwright waiting for her at the entrance to the lift. She explained that on every other day in the office, it had been the concierge who had operated the lift and accompanied her to the third floor office where she worked.

When they were in the lift, Mr Cartwright had chatted to her about a musical performance he had seen the previous evening and seemed far more lively than usual. On reaching the office, he had unlocked the door to their rooms and she had taken a seat at her desk. She then waited for Mr Cartwright to go through to his room and return a short while later with the wooden tray which contained her work for the day. He gave instructions that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances and had retreated into his room once more, closing the door behind him. This was the pattern that had been followed every day that Violet Trelawney had worked at Ravensmere Towers. Very occasionally, Mr Cartwright might emerge from his room with some additional requests, but, on the whole, the secretary was required to work diligently through her allotted work until one-thirty, when Mr Cartwright would come out from his room to announce the time and allow the young woman to go home for the day.

At this point, Holmes cut in. “Miss Trelawney, I think you have forgotten one small detail of the events yesterday. I understand that you placed an apple in your desk drawer?”

Miss Trelawney flushed. “Yes, I’m sorry, Mr Holmes. I had forgotten to mention that. When Mr Cartwright was in his office, I took the Worcester Pearmain from my bag and placed it in the drawer. When the police allowed me to return to the room in the afternoon, I found it had gone.”

Archibald Cartwright scoffed loudly on hearing this and glowered at Holmes. “I might have thought that a consulting detective would have other, more pressing, matters to attend to, beyond a concern for missing fruit,” he announced drily.

Holmes dealt with the challenge head on. “Sir, the absence of the apple lies at the very heart of this mystery as we will discover.” Once more he turned his attention to Miss Trelawney: “Perhaps you could explain what happened when you heard the shot at around eleven o’clock?”

“Yes. I heard the noise, but did not realise it was a gunshot until later. From where I sat, it was not particularly loud and I was a little surprised when Mr Cartwright came out of his room a good three or four minutes later, expressing some concern about it. He picked up my work tray and asked me to follow him to the lift, which we took to get to the ground floor where the others were then assembled. I was very upset to hear that Mr Flanagan had been shot.”

“Indeed. And was there anything else that struck you as odd that morning?”

“Only one thing, Mr Holmes. I imagine it might be the drabness of the room in which I work, particularly with the absence of any windows or natural light, but I did at one point imagine that the walls were closing in on me. It made me feel quite giddy in fact.”

Holmes smiled at her. “That is most enlightening, thank you. And a final question for you, Inspector Lestrade.”

“Yes, Mr Holmes?”

“I understand you conducted a thorough search of the building when you first heard that the gunman had been seen ascending the stairs from the second floor?”

“That is correct. We looked in every room and checked every conceivable hiding place. The killer had clearly fled the building.”

“And what if the killer had been one of the people already in the building – one of those now stood before us?”

There was considerable excitement at this point but Lestrade sought to quash the matter. “Mr Holmes, the killer cannot have been any of these good people. Each has a strong alibi and we could find no handgun on any of them. We searched every desk, drawer, cabinet and cupboard and found nothing to incriminate anybody.”

“Ah, so you searched every room for the murder weapon?”

Lestrade looked confused. “Well, we conducted a detailed search of the ground floor and the first three upper floors, Mr Holmes. I admit that we undertook only a cursory exploration of floors four and five, principally to look for the killer – if we’d found him, we would have found the gun. There seemed little point searching any furniture on those floors as none of our suspects occupied the rooms.”

“I see,” said Holmes. “You will forgive me for pressing the point, but I just wanted to be clear. Now that you have given me that one final piece of the jigsaw, I am certain that I know how the murder was committed yesterday and who our killer is.”

It was the Godbold brothers who were most voluble on hearing this and Violet Trelawney looked flabbergasted. Holmes then announced what was to be done. “If PC Clarke and Mr Mount are content to stand guard, I suggest that Inspector Lestrade and Miss Trelawney accompany Dr Watson and I in the lift to the third floor. I will then explain the sequence of events yesterday morning.”

At this, Archibald Cartwright flared up and rounded on Holmes. “Sir, I refuse to be held captive in my own building! If you are suggesting that one of us committed this heinous crime, I insist that you provide us with the evidence for your assertions. Until such a time, I will not let you curtail my movements.”

Holmes was unperturbed by Cartwright’s outburst and extended him an invitation. “My dear fellow – I will be pleased to provide you with the proof you suggest. Perhaps you can stand in for Miss Trelawney on our short excursion. In fact, that would be a much better plan given that it was you that shot and killed Mr Edward J Flanagan.”

There was not a little surprise at Holmes’ announcement. Frederick Godbold, the youngest of the three brothers, swayed as if he was about to faint. Violet Trelawney looked close to tears and even Inspector Lestrade appeared to be astonished by the revelation. Of those present, it was Archibald Cartwright who remained the most composed of the group.

“Sir, you seem to be forgetting that I have a solid alibi for where I was at the time of the shooting. Miss Trelawney has confirmed that we arrived at the office together. Having given her a few tasks for completion, I withdrew to the back room. I only emerged from the room after I had heard the shot on the first floor. I think you will agree that if I had tried to leave the office by passing through Miss Trelawney’s room, my secretary would, without doubt, have seen me.”

Holmes reflected on Cartwright’s words for a couple of seconds and then responded. “Yes, Mr Cartwright. There is a perfect logic to what you have said. And yet, it does not provide you with an alibi at all. I suggest that our party of four takes that trip to the third floor. All will become clearer as we travel up through the building.”

Leaving the others in the lobby, Holmes and I escorted Lestrade and Cartwright towards the lift. We were safely ensconced within the elevator when Holmes began his narrative. “Gentlemen, Violet Trelawney was employed by Archibald Cartwright less than a week ago. Her excellent references spoke for her. He took her on because she was both hardworking and honest – not because he needed a secretary, but because she would provide him with an almost perfect alibi.”

I could see Cartwright grinding his teeth, his jaw set hard and his eyes fixed firmly on the floor of the lift. Holmes operated a lever for the third floor and with a sudden jolt the mechanism was propelled into action, accompanied by a loud hiss and the noisy whirring of the machinery above and below us. I felt somewhat unnerved and momentarily dizzy as we began to ascend upwards.

Holmes raised his voice above the level of the clatter. “Miss Trelawney stated that when she emerged from the ladies washroom on the fateful morning, Mr Cartwright was waiting for her at the entrance to this lift. It is my contention that this was no coincidence. He planned it that way. It was essential that he take control of the lift and ensure that it was not the lever to their third floor office that was engaged, but the lever to the fourth floor instead. Miss Trelawney described him as being more lively than usual. His idle banter provided a cover for the deception he was perpetrating. The intention was to convince her that she was heading towards the third floor office as she had done every day since entering his employment.”

The lift stopped at the third floor. Holmes pulled the large iron gate aside and beckoned for us to step out of the lift. We were faced with a solid looking oak door and along a long wall to the left of this was arranged a curious mixture of pots and stands of varying heights. A profusion of plant life filled the space and of those I recognised I could make out Kentia Palms and Sword Ferns and at least one large Yucca.

“A pretty display, eh, Inspector?”

Lestrade smiled weakly. “Yes, Mr Holmes. An odd assortment if you ask me. And exactly the same display on each of the first four upper floors.”

“Patently. And on my earlier tour with the concierge, I was told that Mr Cartwright had paid a handsome sum for a local horticulturist to come in and assemble the collections only a week ago. Just before Miss Trelawney started work in fact.”